


shining, shimmering, splendid

by kyliewrites



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Identity Reveal, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, excessive use of disney songs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-02 00:28:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6543004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyliewrites/pseuds/kyliewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marinette learns a few things about her partner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	shining, shimmering, splendid

**Author's Note:**

> oh my gooodddddd I FINALLY finished this monster, if you want to find me i'll be passed out in a ditch somewhere

“I have a whole world that I want you to see,” he says to her, twiddling the silver ring on his finger, casting his eyes downward. “I've told you about it, and it's not always pretty, and it's not always safe, but it's breathtaking. I want you to see it with me, Marinette.”

He raises his eyes to meet her stunned gaze.

He’s been getting closer to her for months now, both as Adrien and Chat Noir. She no longer trips over her words around him at school (although she still flushes a lovely shade of pink if he gets too flirty) and he was ecstatic to be better friends, even _if_ his heart had decided to do annoying little waltzes when he was with her.

He learned that Marinette loves Jagged Stone and the color pink, and she sews her own clothing. Marinette is amazing at literature and terrible at physics, and the scrunched-up face she makes when she doesn’t understand a problem is _adorable_. Marinette is caring. Marinette is strong. Marinette was willing to punch Chloé Bourgeois in the jaw for insulting Chat Noir, getting suspended for five days and not regretting a single moment. (That night, Adrien had fallen asleep with her fiery expression burned into his mind.)

Marinette is impulsive, rash, and self-serving at times, but her incredible capacity for love overwhelms any negative trait she may possess. Marinette is _good_.

Marinette had planned to come over to his house tonight for physics homework.

Marinette had accidentally stumbled onto him talking to his kwami. 

Her breath had caught in a soft _oh_ , her blue eyes staring in shock at two sets of green, one almost glowing in the dim light. Electric green. _Chat Noir_ green.

He saw the truth sink into her shoulders in the way that they stiffened, her spine going ramrod straight. Her mouth had shaped his name silently, and her eyes had been far away, no doubt flashing back on all the times he had dropped by her balcony, pretending that he didn't talk to her that very day at school. 

He saw he couldn't even try to deny his identity, so he decided that, screw all protocol, he was going to share this with one of his best friends. Share every single bit of him that he’s kept locked in the shadows, only to reappear when the city is in need of his services. 

“Hi, Princess,” he had whispered, trying to ignore Plagg’s snickering from behind him.

She looks at him now, looks at his ring, looks at the tiny black cat floating behind him with an expression that seems eerily like recognition. He sees her grip on her purse tighten.

He had offered her a part of himself, the part that nobody wanted, and for one terrible moment he thinks that she's going to reject it and leave him all alone (again, again, _again_.) Then he sees her expression smooth into something softer, tenderness shining in her brilliant blue eyes. 

“Show me,” she breathes.

His heart soars.

* * *

The night is cold in Paris, and he smiles when he feels her head burrow into the crook of his neck, face pressed against the cool leather. Her arms are hooked under his, hands grasped on his broad shoulders. He tries not to think about how her legs are clamped around his waist like a vice.  

He's sprinting across rooftops with a sort of cautious glee, bounding and leaping but careful not to jostle the small civilian he held in his arms, as well as the large duffel bag he has slung over his shoulder. It’s somewhat annoying how it bangs against his legs as he runs, but Marinette consumes enough of his attention that he really doesn’t mind.

“Guess we’re not doing any physics tonight,” she says in his ear, just enough so that her voice won’t get lost in the wind. Her breath is hot on his skin but he has to resist the urge to shiver. 

“Nonsense,” he manages when his brain stops short-circuiting, “We can do physics right now if we wanted to. For example… if Chat Noir falls off the Eiffel Tower, and the Eiffel is 324 meters tall, how much time does it take for him to go _splat?”_

“None, because Ladybug would save his sorry tail,” she mumbles against his neck.

“That’s true, I guess,” he says with a shaky laugh, and he’d be lying if he said that part of it wasn't because her soft lips had brushed against his skin. 

They land outside a nondescript building, and he gently sets her down, clawed hands resting on her shoulders. “I trust the journey was enjoyable?” He asks, taking in her bright red red nose and windswept hair and beautiful smile. 

“It wasn’t a magic carpet ride, that’s for sure,” she says jokingly, brushing her hair back into place with her fingers.

“Princess, I’m offended!” He exclaims, laying a hand on his chest indignantly. He catches her eye and smiles, softer than his usual Chat-grins. She seems caught off-guard, but he guesses he can’t be surprised by that. After all, even if he _had_ relaxed around her a bit as Adrien, Chat Noir still tended to be much more boisterous than his civilian counterpart. 

Suddenly, an idea struck him. Speaking of boisterous...

 _“I can show you the world_ ,” he begins, his sweet smile shifting seamlessly into a smirk.

“Chat, no.”

_“Shining, shimmering, splendid…”_

“Adrien, once my disney side has been brought out, it can’t be contained.”

 _“Tell me Princess, now when did you last let your heart decide?”_ He sings, ridiculously off-key and voice full of laughter. When she sighs in exasperation, a half-smile lilting on her face, he knows he’s won. 

_“I can open your eyes,”_ they both sing-yell, lifting their arms up like they were soaring through the air, _“Take you wonder by woooonderrrrrrr,”_ Their voices echo through the empty alleyways and they’ve probably woken up at least ten people with their bad singing but Adrien can’t find it in him to care. _“Over sideways and under on a magic carpet riiiiiiiide…”_

 _“A whole new woooooooooorrrrrlllddddddddd!”_ They holler, only to be interrupted by a _crash_ and yelling. They both freeze, ears trying to pick up what was being screamed at them.

“Stupid kids! It’s nearly _eleven_!” The elderly man’s voice screeches, grating against Chat’s eardrums. The night is quiet for a moment before he hears quiet grumbling and a window being shut.

Chat, still frozen in place, lets his eyes meet Marinette’s. They stare at each other a few seconds before simultaneously bursting into howls of laughter. 

“We’re such...idiots!” Marinette chokes out, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. “How _dare_ we make noise...on a Friday night...at eleven o’clock. Shame on us!”

“They couldn’t handle the pure force of our singing, Princess,” He says with a grin. “It was too amazing for them to handle.”

“Obviously,” she giggles, and man, he really, _really_ likes this girl.

“So you aren’t going to ask me the obvious question?” He inquires.

“Why you’re singing disney show tunes at eleven o’clock on a Friday night?” Marinette quips, and he laughs again.

“I was thinking more along the lines of ‘Hey Adrien, what’s in the mysterious black duffel bag?’” He says, holding it up for emphasis.

“I assume I’m going to find out soon, _Chaton_ ,” Marinette says, and he makes a small, satisfied noise of affirmation.

“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves; we should go inside first,” he says. He strides to the door of the building they’re outside, and he knocks three times, each one staccato and prominent. The door cracks open.

“Oh, Monsignor Noir, you’re back!” A voice says excitedly, and Adrien smiles when light floods out of the suddenly open doorway. 

“Marinette,” he says softly, “Come meet my friends.”

* * *

She nervously steps into the light, peering inside. Looking around the brightly lit room, she sees blankets covering the dusty tile floor, suitcases and backpacks, a guitar case or seven, and a hundred eager faces, all different races and ages and genders and degrees of cleanliness, but all wearing the same expression of contentment.

“Monsignor Noir!”

“It’s Chat Noir, he’s brought us presents!”

“Good to see you, Chat Noir.”

“Chat Noir!”

A boy with raggedy clothing and messy hair runs up to them, and Chat lifts him up into the air with ease, eyes shining as the boy laughs, waving his hands around. 

“How’s my favorite superhero?” Chat asks, looking the boy with affection. “Not getting into any trouble, I hope?”

“No, Chat Noir,” The boy says with a giggle.

“It’s a homeless shelter,” Marinette murmurs, mostly to herself, but she can see Chat nod in her periphery. He sets the boy down and sends him back to his mother with a hair ruffle and the kindest smile she’s ever seen.

He huddles down next to his duffel bag and unzips it, and Marinette can see that Adrien must’ve raided a grocery store; there’s toothbrushes and paste, deodorant and blankets and even tampons and pads. Boxes upon boxes of protein bars, some cans of soup, and Marinette sees with a jolt that he even brought small toys for the children to play with.

Marinette feels her heart swell as she looks at her partner handing out supplies, an expression of pure happiness etched on his face. He catches her staring and winks, and she feels her cheeks heat up. _God damn it girl, pull yourself together._

She marches over to the duffel bag and begins unpacking, sorting the food and the bathroom products.

“I never knew you did this,” She says to him while she sorts, and he raises an eyebrow at her.

“If I had told anybody, it would’ve wound up on the internet somehow and I can do without people fawning over me for being a decent human being,” he explains. “I have more money than I could ever need, it’s the least I can do to help the people of my city. I try to come once every few weeks, maybe more if it’s in the winter.”

“Wow.”

“What?”

“You’re amazing,” Marinette says, and when he splutters and tries to downplay the compliment she shushes him. “You are. Ladybug doesn’t visit homeless shelters, or try to stop regular criminals like you do, or even comfort Hawk Moth’s victims after she cleanses them. She just saves the day and leaves. You go above and beyond your responsibility as a hero. You really do love this city with all your heart, and it shows with how much you give to it and the people. And you ask for nothing in return. You are _amazing_ , Chat.”

She looks at the group of people, gazing at these trivial objects with enthusiasm and gratitude as they receive them. “They’re amazing, too,” she adds softly. 

Chat is looking at her with wide eyes. She blushes again and busies herself with giving out tampons, grumbling about stupid cats all the while.

* * *

_Adrien.exe has stopped responding…_

Oh God. He’s officially smitten. He’s in love with this girl and her soft words and voice like fire, her beautiful heart and determined eyes and the kind gaze she fixes on everyone deserving of it (he wonders what he did to earn that expression directed at him.) 

He passes out the last bag of diapers with a dazed expression on his face, the shockwaves from his revelation still resounding somewhere in his ribcage.

Eventually, everyone in the room has gotten what they need until his next visit, and calls of appreciation start to ring through the large room.

“Thank you, Chat Noir!”

“ _Merci_ , Mademoiselle!”

“Til next time,” he says, giving a warm smile and a wink to the people he's gotten to know so very well since he's started to come here. Most of them smile back and go on with their evening activities.

Hugo, a little boy he had bonded with a few weeks back, runs up to him again to give him a hug. Adrien scoops him up and holds him close, trying to fight the pang of sadness that strikes through him every time he has to leave.

“Chat Noir?” Hugo whispers clumsily in his ear, just a little too loudly to be out of earshot. He sees Marinette look at them curiously.

“Yeah?” He says.

“Is that girl your princess?” He asks, and Chat feels his face go red.

As embarrassing as it is, it's pretty clear he’s a goner no matter what he says. So he decides to roll with it.

“Yeah, that's her,” he says gently, and looks at Marinette with what he imagines is the dopiest, most lovestruck smile he can muster (not that he has to try much to summon it.)

It’s worth the embarrassment to see her reaction.

Marinette’s cheeks are furiously pink, like she’s been pinching them for hours. Her hands are shaking, gripping tightly at the box of teddy grahams until the container is dented. Her mouth hangs slightly open, frozen in place for a few seconds before she starts to babble.

“W-Wow, I didn't know th-at you talked about you—me? Which makes sense because I didn't know you were there-here! In the first place, I mean it's not like that's a bad thing, but I—you—that's very flattering, I mean. Thanks you? No, _thank_ you. Oh God, strike me down—I mean, not like I don't like being with you, I love it, I love— _well_ , it's just that I'm an idiot, and I'm going to stop talking now.”

He stares at her, and Hugo starts to giggle.

“I like her,” he says. “She’s funny. Will she come back next time?”

Chat glances from Hugo to her, and she nods silently, her face still the same shade of pink as her pants.

“Yeah, I think she will,” He says softly, setting the boy down. “I’ll bring you an action figure, too.” 

“You’re the coolest! Bye Chat Noir!” Hugo exclaims, and scampers back to his mother. 

Chat looks after the boy with affection, and glances toward his partner in crime.

“Ready for the next stop?” He asks, extending his hand toward her.

The pink has faded from her face, which is a shame because it's a very nice color on her, and she nods, tentatively reaching out and folding her fingers through his.

“I’m ready,” she says.

* * *

“So, what's our next destination, Aladdin?” Marinette calls out as they hurtle through the night sky at breakneck speed. Everything seems so much faster without her suit, the stars swirling past her and the gentle Parisian breeze feeling like a hurricane against her skin. She’s opted to ride piggy-back this time around, and the sight of the city rushing around her is dizzying without her mask and yoyo. 

She burrows her face into his soft hair to keep her nausea from acting up, breathing in the scent of his cologne. 

“You’ll see, Princess,” she hears. “Hold on tight!”

She feels the drop and her stomach swoops, and she can't contain her shocked shriek as they both rip through the sky, the frigid air feeling almost solid as it beats across her face.

Chat lands with an _oof_ , and it would've been graceful if Marinette hadn't tried to steady their landing by careening backwards. He loses balance and collapses onto soft grass, Marinette sprawled on top of him.

“Nice landing, Chaton,” she says dryly.

“Your fault,” He mumbles, but she’s laughing and he seems to shrug it off.

Marinette rolls off of him and onto the grass, loving the cool, fresh feeling against her bare arms. “So where are we?” She asks him, kicking off her shoes.

“Jardin du Ranelagh,” Chat says, grinning at her. “It’s my favorite place to trespass at night.”

“Ooh, you rebel, what might the public think to know that their great hero is a lawbreaker?”

“It’d be the headliner of tomorrow’s paper, just imagine!” He says, extending an arm and gazing beyond it with a distant expression, as if he can see it in this moment. 

Marinette puts on her best news anchor voice as she plays along. “Chat Noir: Superhero or Super _Loiterer_? The catty vigilante was seen last night _purr_ using le Jardin du Renelagh with what appears to be a normal civilian girl. How scandalous! What would Ladybug think?”

“Definitely that I'm an idiot,” he laughs, and rolls over onto his stomach. “Come on, Princess, the park is beautiful at night.”

Someone had put up fairy lights, twinkling amidst the foliage and shining softly on the pale statues. It’s the peak of autumn, and the golds and reds of the leaves leave a warm atmosphere even in the chilly evening. 

Marinette slips her flats back on. Chat Noir offers her his hand and she takes it, giving a startled laugh when he pulls her up with more force than necessary and almost sends her flying into his chest. 

“Careful, kitten,” she says.

“I forget how strong the suit makes me sometimes,” He says, still not releasing her hand from his now-gentle grip. “On a side note, have you ever thought about how kinky it is for you to call me ‘kitten,’ Princess? It makes our midnight rendezvous seem so much more scandalous.” 

“It’s an innocent nickname!” Marinette says indignantly. “Also, you should take a look in the mirror before you call other people kinky, Monsignor _Leather Catsuit_.”

“Hey! I had _no_ choice in my superhero wardrobe, so don't judge the outfit.”

“You can't lie to me; I know you love it,” Marinette accuses.

“I do,” he admits, grinning. “But you love it more.”

Marinette splutters, tripping over her own feet as she takes a step back. “N- _no_ I do _not_ , Chat Noir! You're making things up.”

“Am _not_ ; I have hard evidence to prove that you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, love this tight leather catsuit. Especially on me.”

“And what is this supposed ‘hard evidence’, Chat?” Marinette asks, trying to conceal her amusement and failing. “Video evidence? Found some imaginary footage of me checking out your ass?”

“Nope,” Chat says, adding a pop to the ‘p’ sound. “All I need to prove it are these babies right here.” He gestures to himself, more specifically…

“Your rock hard abs, I should've known,” Marinette says, rolling her eyes. “How could I forget _those_ when that leather suit perfectly accentuates them?”

“I knew you would eventually come to your senses” Chat teases. 

“Yeah, yeah, let's walk,” Marinette says, impressed by the fact that she's managed to not embarrass herself on this portion of their little adventure.

Chat leads her down one of the paths in the park, and it's nice, just to be near him and the glowing lights. 

“Hey, Marinette.”

“Yeah?”

“Could you tell me what time it is?” Chat asks. The cobblestone path snaking down the park feeds into a large circle, trees encrusting the edges and hanging over the open space. They stand at the mouth of it, peering inwards.

Marinette opens her bag to rummage around for her phone, instead seeing bright blue eyes staring at her, wide and concerned, something ancient brewing in the depths of those big pupils. She knows what Tikki is asking: _when are you going to tell him?_

Marinette bites her lip, trying not to think of Adrien’s reaction to her being Ladybug. Would he be elated? Disappointed? A part of her can’t help but think it would be the latter; who would want clumsy, boring Marinette to be the beloved super heroine of Paris? Conversely, she can't imagine anyone better suited to be her partner than Adrien. Two of the boys she loves more than anything had turned out to be the same person, and upon reflection, Marinette is surprised that she didn't see it sooner. Both insurmountably kind, brave, selfless. Both loyal, almost to a fault (Adrien's image is now superimposed over every single memory in which Chat has taken a hit for her, and it jars her, how perfectly their features overlap.) The blonde hair, the green eyes, the smirk that she didn't know could find a home on Adrien’s lips until recently...The only difference was that Adrien Agreste ©, property of Agreste Fashion, was a montage of polite smiles and mild words, preened and pressed and folded and unfolded like origami, a shell to bury Adrien, Chat Noir, his true self in. Marinette had slowly, painstakingly, dug him up, dragged him to the surface over the course of months, and found that she likes this Adrien even more than the picture-perfect one. And now he had shared all of himself with her, the well-mannered son of a millionaire mixed with the wickedly clever and dorky superhero. He isn't hiding himself anymore, at least not from Marinette. The thought makes her heart burn like a hot coal, the heat of it not unfamiliar but never this potent.

_When are you going to tell him?_

She grabs her phone and looks apologetically at her Kwami. _Later_ , she mouths, and glances down at her now lit-up phone screen. 

“We have effectively killed two hours; it’s almost one,” she announces, gently placing her phone back in her bag and thinking that she'll have to get Tikki some extra cookies for this.

“Perfect,” Chat says, grinning at her.

“Why?” Marinette inquires. 

“I'm not the only one who likes to trespass, Princess, and they usually come at one to practice.”

“Who’re ‘ _they’_?”

As if the universe decided to answer her question, two figures emerge from the trees, one carrying a violin case and the other, a small keyboard.

“We didn't know you'd be here tonight, Chat,” the girl with the keyboard says, and Marinette is shocked to recognize the bubblegum pink hair tucked underneath a baseball cap. Her companion, in his signature red shirt, scrutinizes her for a few short moments before his face splits into what can only be called a shit-eating grin.

“And with _Marinette Dupain-Cheng_ ,” Kim says, putting emphasis on her name. Alix rolls her eyes and starts setting up a stand, placing her keyboard carefully on top of it.

“Shut up, Kim,” Chat grumbles, and Marinette is delighted to see that he's turned a bit red. “How’s it going, Alix?”

“Awesome,” she says, giving them a thumbs up. “A little caught off-guard that you decided to bring someone with you, but it's alright. Marinette’s cool.”

“That she is,” Chat says, sending her a wink.

“Hi Alix, Kim,” Marinette says cheerfully, ignoring Chat. “I didn't know that you guys played any instruments.”

“Neither does anybody else,” Alix says, a smirk attached to her face. “Can you imagine all the boring recitals Dad would put me in if he found out I play piano? No _way_.” 

Kim rubs the back of his head. “And violin doesn't really add to the ‘tough football player’ rep I want to keep. So we play at the taverns on occasion. It's good for pocket money when bets aren't working out. We practice here on the weekends.”

“Then, like a few weeks after we had started, Chat Noir dropped in one night, just out of the blue,” Alix says.

“Yeah, he tends to do that,” Marinette says, thinking back on all the times that he had dropped by her room with a flirty smirk and a flick of the tail. She had usually rolled her eyes, bringing out a plate of pastries that he gobbled down without restraint. She hadn’t minded; he had always looked slightly malnourished, and it comforted to know that he was getting calories from _somewhere_. His eating sprees were usually followed by a string of flirty banter and an old episode of _Project Runway_ , with both of them giving their input on each outfit (she had been surprised to find out that Chat has a pretty extensive knowledge of fashion, but now she supposes it made sense. A lot of things made sense now.)

He would run off with a brush of his lips to her knuckles and a “ _goodnight, Princess_ ,” looking sleepy and content. She would watch him disappear, a black splotch against the indigo sky, the city eating him up as he charged closer to the horizon. He would leave, and Marinette would push down the guilt that accompanied her growing closeness to her partner.

She hadn’t thought she was the type to fall in love with two people at the same time, and she was horrified to find out that she had gone and done it anyways. With someone who turned out to be the same person.

Honestly, after the initial recognition and subsequent shock, it was an immense, sweeping _relief_ that had coursed through her. A selfish, greedy relief; she didn’t have to choose between the two of them, she didn’t have to break off a part of her heart to be with him. 

An equally selfish part of her is refraining from telling him _her_ secret. Ladybug...she would always be inherently loveable. An idol, a gift from the gods, a saviour to protect the people of Paris with her miraculous power to create, to fix. Chat had gone on rants about her, how much he admired her and loved her beyond belief. Marinette would tease him about it, ignoring the dread pooling somewhere near her heart. 

She loves him. All of him. And while he might hold affection for Marinette, she can’t compete with Ladybug. 

“Anyways, turns out he’s a pretty good piano player,” Alix says, snapping Marinette out of her train of thought. “He gave some tips, and listened in on some of our practices when he wasn’t out fighting the forces of evil.” 

“What can I say?” Chat says, throwing an arm loosely around Marinette. “I’m an avid patron of the arts and I always look forward to mentoring newbies.”

“I’m sure you do,” Marinette says, rolling her eyes for what feels like the millionth time that evening.

“Is that a hint of sarcasm I hear? I’m wounded, Princess. You should know better than anyone that I’m a musical connoisseur.”

“Princess?” Kim asks with badly disguised glee.

“Shut up Kim,” Marinette mutters.

“So how do you and Monsignor Supercat know each other?” Alix asks, resting her elbows on her keyboard. Marinette feels her face go red, flashing back to both _gum, umbrella, school, Adrien_ and _Stoneheart, yoyo, superheroes, Ladybug,_ and obviously those explanations are out of the question.

“Um. Uh,” Marinette says, playing with her fingers and trying to sort through her flustered thoughts to find the correct memories.

“There was a certain akuma that I needed to protect her from,” Chat butts in helpfully.

“Oh, yeah, when Nath freaked out and became the artist dude,” Kim says, snapping his fingers. “That was wild, man.”

“Yes, exactly,” Marinette says. “Ladybug assigned Chat to protect me.”

“Not that she needed protecting,” Chat says, squeezing her shoulder. She sees Alix and Kim give each other a _look_ , and she groans internally, thinking of how embarrassing school is going to be on Monday. “She saved my tail back then, and we’ve been _besties_ ever since.” 

“Yeah, _besties_ , I’m sure,” Kim says sarcastically.

“Shut up Kim,” Marinette says again, but Chat lets go of her and strides towards the two musicians.

“Can I ask you two a favor?” He asks casually, twirling his belt around his fingers. Marinette stares at the back of his head, eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“Depends on what it is,” Alix says, and Chat leans in close to whisper in ear, doing the same to Kim. Marinette clenches her fists, a flash of irritation striking through her; she’s always _hated_  being left out on secrets. 

Alix looks at Chat with an incredulous expression. “Seriously?” She asks, and he nods solemnly. She bursts into laughter. “You’re such a _sap_ , I can’t believe the entire population of Paris trusts you to beat up bad guys.”

“You’ll do it?” Chat asks.

“Of course,” Alix snickers, glancing at Kim, who’s face had gained a smug quality to it.  Her smile grows more genuine, her face glowing in the gentle light. “Give your Princess her dance,” she says softly.

“What?” Marinette asks, and suddenly Chat is in front of her, a gloved hand extended, reaching for her own.

“May I have this dance, _ma belle_?” He asks, his tender expression making her insides feel like soft serve. _Damn it._

“You may,” she says, taking his hand, kind of glad that he’s wearing gloves and can’t tell how sweaty her palms are. He smiles, and it is so _Adrien_ but so _Chat_ and she feels like she’s drowning in the boy, the real one, the one underneath all the masks and the fake smiles and the alter egos.

She feels herself fall a little bit deeper for him.

“We’re ready when you are,” he says to Alix and Kim, never taking his eyes off of her.

“One, two, three, four…” she hears Alix count, and when the first chord reaches her ears, she _knows_.

“You’re so corny,” she whispers as Adrien pulls her close. The violin slides in with the piano, and she’s surprised that someone so huge and brash as Kim can make such a delicate noise, the high sound reiterating the central melody, slowly shifting to a lower pitch to compensate for the lack of lyrics.

_Tale as old as time…_

“I wanted to continue the Disney theme, and this is your favorite slow song,” he whispers, squeezing her hand as they begin to sway in time to the music. “Besides, you love the corn.” 

She rests her forehead against his collarbone, inhaling the smell of leather and boy. This is too much. She had always been a sucker for grand gestures, but this...she’s going to pass out or something. “Knew what my favorite goddamn slow song is,” she mutters, voice muffled against his chest, and continues to dance as the melody plays on, soft and sweet. He’s a good lead, his steps sure as he twirls her in a circle. The music swells, going up a key, and he brings her back to his chest to dip her slightly and pull her back in, moving as though he had done this a thousand times with her before.

“I do, though,” she mumbles, almost tripping over his steel-tipped boots.

“‘I do’ what?” He asks, looking down at her. His eyes are very, very green. She glances away, nervousness momentarily paralyzing her vocal chords.

“Love it, I mean. I love it,” She says, coughing a little. She raises her eyes to meet his, hoping he would catch onto what she really means. He’s a little red, the tips of his ears matching what she can see of his cheeks, staring at her with... _God,_ that’s the expression he usually reserved for Ladybug. The music crescendoes, surrounding them with a wall of sound, and it’s suddenly just the two of them, just the two of them swirling under the lights of the park.

“I...I try, Princess,” He says, but the attempted bravado fails and he only ends up sounding gentle. So, so, gentle, and Marinette’s gaze drops to the slight quirk of his lips, the tender smile he’s aiming right at her. She wants to taste that smile, to breathe him in and never breathe out. The music slows, Kim stringing the higher notes again. Her eyes flick back up to his, and she bites her lip. His eyes are fixed on her, warm and steady. He had caught her looking, but does that really matter? It’s just them and the music, and kissing him would be so, so easy, and she knows he would kiss her back. But she feels Alix and Kim in her periphery, and rational thought kicks back in. The music comes to a closing note, a sweet vibrato that clings to the night like it doesn't want to leave. 

They looked at each other as the sound of quiet fills the park again. She's suddenly hyper aware of his hands on her waist and hers resting on his chest, his body warm underneath her palms. 

“That was…” Chat says, trailing off.

“Nice,” Marinette finishes, backing away from him, immediately missing the heat of his body. “That was...really nice, Chat.”

She glances at the two other humans in the park. Alix looks annoyed, her shoulders collapsed and eyes narrowed at them. Kim’s expression is contorted in an odd mix of disappointment and that overbearing smugness. 

“What gives?” Alix says, crossing her arms. 

“That was amazing, very _purr_ ty,” Chat says, apparently ignoring her. “But alas, Princess and I must depart for our final destination.”

Marinette rubs her arms self consciously. She had been about to do something _really, really_ stupid…

“Yeah, thank you for the song,” she says, ignoring the flare of awkwardness that accompanies their gazes set on her. “Keep up the good work.”

“Thanks, Marinette,” Kim says. He winks at her. “See you at school.”

“Bye, saps,” Alix says, a half smile curved on her face. “Enjoy the night.”

* * *

The lights of the Eiffel shine brightly in the early morning, just a couple hours shy of the sun dragging itself above the horizon. He runs toward it, feet landing silently on the rooftops as he carries Marinette ever closer to the monument. Her weight is comfortable, her arms wrapped tightly around his chest, hands curling up to rest on his shoulders. He can feel her breath creating spots of warmth on his back. 

She's quiet, and her soft, steady inhales and the weight of her head against his trapezius makes him worry that she might fall asleep. He skitters to a stop, and he can feel her head raise.

“Where are we?” She asks blearily, and Adrien sets her down. She stumbles a little bit, a yawn stretching her mouth open. For a brief moment, Adrien allows himself to envision her in the morning, adorably grumpy with bed head to match. 

“Almost there, Princess,” he says softly, smiling at the thought. “I just didn't want you dozing off and letting go.”

“I'm sorry,” Marinette sighs, “I haven't been getting much sleep recently.”

“It's okay,” he says, ruffling her hair. “We can go tomorrow, if you want.”

“No!” She says, brushing the black strands into place. Her eyes are wide and earnest. “I'm good, I don't want this to end.”

He flashes a grin at her, shoving down the hoard of _petits papillons_ that threaten to erupt from his lip in the form of feather-light kisses and a few words that he’s been thinking for ages. “Can't get enough of me, Princess?”

She rolls her eyes, a delight he would never get tired of seeing. “Of course, didn't you know? I'm your biggest fan.”

“I would hope so,” he purrs, lowering his voice. “I wouldn't want to drag you out on this night unless you were my most _paw_ ssionate admirer.” 

Marinette looks taken aback by his new tone, her cheeks flaming, but after a moment she crosses her arms and mock-glares at him. “That's gonna change if you keep using stupid puns.”

Chat grins. “Oh Princess, just you wait; your doubts will fade before this night ends.” 

He extends his arm.

“Do you trust me?” He asks, winking at her. 

“Are you going to take me on another magic carpet ride?” She replies skeptically, placing her hand in his anyway.

He laughs and scoops her up, cradling her close to his chest. Her mouth pops slightly open, eyes wide with surprise.

“Is this okay?” He asks, slightly anxious. She nods silently, pressing her lips together. 

“It'll only be another minute,” he says as he starts to run again, wrapping his arms more firmly around her to protect her from the icy wind. She shivers nonetheless, a shaky sigh escaping her lips.

He shifts into a rhythm, his strides long and sure, leaping into the air and landing with a slight huff. He glances down at the girl in his arms. Marinette's hands are curled around her purse, looking up at him with such complete _trust_ and something else that he doesn't dare let himself hope for. She smiles timidly at him. A grin forms on his face, wide enough to fit the crescent moon inside his teeth. 

“Enjoying the view?” He asks, tensing as he launches them off of the concrete building, legs burning pleasantly. 

“I can't; there's an annoying cat blocking it,” she replies, seemingly unphased by the lack of solid ground beneath them.

His feet find wrought iron, the _clang_ of his steel-tipped boots against the metal making Marinette jolt, her hands immediately flying to his shoulders to steady herself. 

“Easy, minou,” she says.

“ _Again_ with the kinky nicknames, Princess, I thought you were better than that,” he teases.

“Chat, nooooo,” she groans, and he chuckles.

“I'm just kidding, I like your nicknames,” he says, setting her down. “There you go. And now you don't have an obnoxious cat obstructing your view.”

“My...view?” Marinette says, whirling around from him. Her mouth drops open.

“Enjoy, Princess,” he says softly, letting her take in the sprawl of Paris, the lights painting the sky black-gold, the horizon glowing and the hush of the night contrasting with the overall _brightness_ of it all, transfiguring the city into something almost reverent, a place of worship. It was his and Ladybug’s favorite view, and it’s an odd kind of thrill to see Marinette, maskless, civilian clothes fluttering in the wind, gazing at the city with an awed and almost... _touched_ expression. 

“You took me _here_ ,” she whispers, and, bizarrely enough, she bites her lip like she's trying to hold in a laugh.

“I...do you like it?” He asks.

“I love it,” she says, and when she turns to him, there's enough warmth in her gaze to make him melt. Because that's what Marinette _is_ , she's warmth and comfort and kindness. She's a fire that refuses to stop burning in his chest, sometimes raging and wild, sometimes a soft smolder, but always, always there. 

Anxiety, a lightning strike up his sternum and lancing through his heart. This is it. He has to tell her.

He rests a hand on her shoulder, and releases his transformation. Electrons crackle, shift, and he's Adrien again, catching Plagg softly in his hands. The Kwami looks at him, eyes glittering.

“I can't _wait_ to see how this turns out,” he says gleefully, zooming into Adrien’s pocket. He stares at the lump underneath his clothing in confusion. Plagg hadn't even asked for camembert, which is the most unusual thug that's happened in the past month. He shrugs it off. There are more important things to address right now.

He turns his gaze to her.

“Marinette...I have something to say, and I've been wanting to say it for a while,” he tells her, gauging her reaction.

She nods slowly, a silent prod to go on. Her eyes are full of confusion, and his chest tightens. 

“I've been rehearsing it in the mirror and in my head and I don't know if it'll come out perfect but I want you to hear it,” he says weakly, heart pounding. His palms are starting to get clammy, and he gulps down the nervousness.

“It's okay, Adrien,” she says, placing a hand on top of his, seeming to grasp how serious he is.

“Okay...well…” He begins, “when I first met Ladybug, she literally had crashed into my life.”

Marinette suddenly looks like she’s swallowed a shot of pure alcohol, her lips pressing together almost painfully tight. Adrien's nerves go wild, telling him to _shut up now before you embarrass yourself, you dumb fuck_. But she needs to hear this, he needs to get the words off his tongue, even if they come out uncoordinated, a foal just beginning to walk. 

“She was clumsy and insecure and I got to watch her transform into...this brave, beautiful _hero_ , one who didn't back down from a challenge, one who would risk it all for this city,” he continues, feeling more and more like he was rambling. “And...I fell in love with her in that moment.”

He can't bring himself to look at Marinette, and he turns to Paris as he speaks, his voice growing soft. “I hadn't been used to the feeling for a while, when you love someone who’s always there for you. When you _know_ you’re cared for in return. I hadn't felt it in awhile, not since my mother disappeared, and the rush I got when I was with her, when I knew I could count on her to be there for both Paris _and_ me...it was euphoric.”

“A-Adrien,” Marinette says, and she sounds _devastated_. He glances at her, the words stumbling out of his mouth, growing more urgent because she needs to _hear the whole story._

“I could get drunk off the feeling, especially after sitting alone in my house for hours on end. She doesn't like me in that way, and I accepted that a long time ago, but I thought I would never love someone like that again,” he says.

“I understand, Adrien. And I'm sure...I'm _sure_ Ladybug will love you back in a heartbeat,” Marinette whispers. To his horror, she looks like she's trying not to cry. She looks away from him, blinking furiously.

On impulse, he reaches out and cups her cheek, gently pulling her back to face him. 

“Marinette. I _thought_ ,” He says, looking into her eyes, hoping that his own were conveying the intensity of his words. “Past tense, as in, _I used to, but not anymore_.” 

“W-what?”

“Not anymore,” he repeats.

She looks afraid to ask, but she does it anyways. “What—what changed?”

Adrien smiles, because she _has_ to know by now. 

“Well,” he says gently, “I can't say that I met you, because I already had. But then I started talking to you, or you started talking to me, or we started talking to each other, and. Um,” he loses his words momentarily, because she looks so genuinely _shocked_. 

“But—” she says, looking lost. “But _Ladybug—_ ”

“—Is amazing. Don't get me wrong,” Adrien says, hoping that he’s not pushing her further away with his explanation. “She's my partner and I'll always love her in a way, but let me explain it this way: Ladybug, she hung the moon because she's up there with the stars. You love her because she’s _there_ , because she's intrinsic and beautiful and above all else, untouchable.”

He pauses. This is it, this is the point of no return. 

He doesn't look back.

Suddenly he is spilling his soul to her, never breaking eye contact, his expression earnest, ardent, because she needs to know that she’s—

“But _you_ , Marinette, you’re _home_ , and I can feel you everywhere. I can't get you out of my head because you, _you_ , are the most beautiful person I've met, and I'm showing you all these things that I love because you mean more to me than _any_ of that, and I am so, _so_ in love with you, Marinette.”

He hesitates, taking in her stunned expression before speaking again. “I love you so much, Princess. Your kindness and your spunk and how flustered you can get, your creativity and your bull-headedness and when you scrunch up your nose at a physics question. I love you, and I love everything that makes you _Marinette_ , and I guess the point of all of this is that I was wondering if I could kiss— _mmmmftttt?!”_

She had broken out of her reverie and her hand had flown up, smothering his last word into her fingers.

“Kitty,” she breathes, and his heart jumps up into his throat because she has a look in her eyes that he _never_ wants to forget. She smirks, leaning into him. “You talk too much.”

She closes the gap between them, her lips crashing against his and he swears that he’s falling through time and space, stars bursting in his vision in the split second before he starts to kiss her back. It’s slow and fast and everything in between, and their lips are just a tiny bit clumsy and it's _perfect_ , the way that his hands decide to settle on her waist and hers make their way into his hair, pulling him down for her to reach him better. He holds her tighter, dipping her a little bit, gold light hazy on the edges of his eyes.

They part when air becomes a necessity, both distinctly ruffled, breath visible in the cool Parisian sky. 

“By the way,” Marinette says, “I love you too.”

Adrien kisses her again, smile too wide to do anything more than simply press their lips together. It's short, sweet, and the dopey grin he sends her after can’t be helped.

She’s _beautiful_. Her hair is a little messed up and she breathing a bit faster than normal and she's staring at him with those wide blue eyes and she's _perfect_ , and by some miracle that he couldn't fathom, she had chosen him. _All_ of him.

“I can't imagine a better night,” he says, leaning in and resting his forehead against hers for a moment, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of warm vanilla and cinnamon and flour. 

Marinette backs away a little bit, her hands lingering on his shoulders before dropping to her purse, playing with the opening clasp. Her eyes flick up to his and she smiles at him, a mysterious quirk of her lips.

“I have something to show you,” she says.

**Author's Note:**

> *at school on monday*
> 
> Marinette walks into the classroom hand-in-hand with Adrien Agreste. They banter and flirt and everyone's surprised, but no one expected the loud gasps to come from Kim and Alix, staring at the couple in shock.
> 
> They can recognize that sexual tension anywhere.
> 
> Chat Noir has a looooot of explaining to do.......... /end
> 
> anyways, thanks for sticking around for this monster oneshot, it was probably the fluffiest thing i'll ever write in my entire life.


End file.
